you see me coming; feel the threat...

Vincente Contreras Cortázar Cartel Boss Upper East Side, Manhattan, NY penned by Ateş (he/they) UTC+3

[vgcontreras]

Peter Gadiot as VINCENTE CONTRERAS

A true leader has the confidence to stand alone, the courage to make tough decisions, and the compassion to listen to the needs of others. He does not set out to be a leader, but becomes one by the equality of his actions and the integrity of his intent. —Douglas MacArthur

THE BASICS

Name: Vincente Gustavo Contreras

Age / D.O.B.: April 12th, 1983 (43 - Aries)

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cisgender (he/him) & Pansexual

Hometown: Modesto, California | New York City, New York

Affiliation: The Cortázar Cartel

Job position: Leader since 2023 (?)

Education: High-School, B.Sc Emergency & Crisis Management.

Relationship Status: Divorced/Widower

Children: Arturo Contreras (27), Aiden Contreras (20), Adela Contreras (20), Marisol Contreras (12).

Pets: None

Family: Gustavo Contreras (father), Emily Callahan (mother), Vivienne Contreras (older sister).

Languages Spoken: English (Native), Spanish (Native).

Positive traits: Diplomatic, Amusing, Supportive, Protective, Calculative, Logical.

Negative traits: Apathetic, Ruthless, Manipulative, Temperamental, Loud.

Character influences: Lip Gallagher (Shameless), Marcus Cane (The 100), Klaus Mikaelson (TO/TVD), Brian Kinney (QAF) .

BIOGRAPHY tws domestic abuse, teen pregnancy, murder

   They’d been a quiet, middle-class family from New York but living in Modesto, California at the time the day everything changed. At thirty-one weeks into her second pregnancy, Emily, a high school teacher and her husband Gustavo, a soldier stationed in the county found themselves meeting their son earlier than they’d expected. He was a small, fragile boy with a head of light hair and the warmest smile. After a couple of weeks in the NICU still unnamed out of fear, Emily and Gustavo decided to call their little boy, Vincente, if not for conquering death then because Emily knew the moment that her eyes met her son’s that he would do whatever it took to prevail, no matter the cost. 

   A handful by birth, Vincente would go on to do exactly what his mother had predicted. ADHD, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Addictions, Asthma — psychologist after psychologist said that it was brought on by the manner of his birth but the truth was that Vincente liked pissing off his father, at least then he would have his full attention. 

   Missed birthdays and holidays; long hours on patrol; Vincente and his older sister, Vivienne paid the price for their father keeping their community safe but being the youngest, five years younger than his sister, Vincente seemed to feel its effect the most. He snuck out, went to parties, got drunk, did too many drugs, and secretly enjoyed when his father would pull up to the house party of the week and drag him out by his collar. 

   But sooner rather than later, his rebellion and recklessness started getting him into trouble; a teenage pregnancy with a one night stand, a stint in juvie for breaking and entering, petty theft, and the potential of real prison after he attacked one of his cellmates with a sharp object. It was when the mother of his child brought Arturo to visitation that life for Vincente changed. She wanted to give him up for adoption, to give him a chance at having a real life, with ‘real’ parents, whatever that meant but Vincente’s heart wouldn’t let him. 

   Making the decision to become a single father at the age of sixteen felt easy at the time, honourable even but soon the reality of it set in. He graduated high school early, moved in with a family friend in New York after an argument with his mother got out of hand, and started selling drugs to make ends meet. He trained with the Graysons, attended university during the week, worked part-time at a bookstore and made sure that he didn’t miss any holidays or birthdays. 

   On a weekend trip to Boston to visit his sister, at a bar a couple of blocks from her home, Vincente fell head over heels for someone who would not only be his origin story but the person who made his obsession with POWER so great that he would do anything to attain it.

   He was older, a lawyer, incredibly charming. They had a lot in common despite being raised in completely different households and three months after they met, they’d moved in together. He became a secondary father figure to Arturo, an almost-husband despite the politics at the time forbidding it, and Vincente couldn’t have been happier. 

   Vincente got a job immediately upon graduation back in California, started working for the government as a crisis manager; they had twins Aiden and Adela and followed them up with another child a couple of years later. But their relationship wasn’t the perfect image that they’d portrayed it as; every night, his boyfriend would come home, completely sober, and start with the insults disguised as jokes, the taunting, the FORCE. He started getting angry at him for moving books or the house being a mess or how much time he’d spent on work, always accusing him of infidelity or something else that would start an argument when he needed the ego boost. 

   The fists started when the twins were 4. Vincente got good at making excuses, dodging questions, and hiding bruises under long sleeves and concealer. He tried to leave many times but never followed through until one night, with Levi’s brother waiting for him outside, he herded all four children out of the house when he was on a business trip.

   The aftermath was messy, depressing, and terrifying but they managed to SURVIVE. He lost his government job, moved back to New York, started selling again and caught the eye of his superiors. He rose through the ranks relatively quickly, becoming trusted and relied upon only a couple of years after he’d started working for the cartel.    

Becoming leader wasn’t surprising, he’d been prepared for it, understood what the position entailed and what he would need to sacrifice in his pursuit of this kind of power but he hadn’t been ready what he’d have to do to prove that he was worthy of it. But he’d done it, on a cold night in December, even if his hand shook and his gags were violent, he’d tied up loose ends and faced his demons all at once; he’d killed him, his ex-partner but everyone simply believed he went missing. And no one ever came knocking on his door to question him about it, they knew better and they wouldn't find him if they did.

PERSONALITY

SHARP; tongued; minded; a visionary in his own respects, Vince is recklessly ambitious, oddly carefree, and defines chaos when he walks into any room but it comes from a small, highly trusted inner circle, the assets to disappear if the tides of his life changed, and a tiny bit of over-confidence.

Many would say that he moves with impulsive grace. Situations normally work in his favour even though they shouldn't and he makes it look easy; when they don't, he never takes the fall — that's why they had younger members, wasn't it?

A chameleon, he fits into the background of New York easily, can adapt his way of speaking, thinking, and look to cater to whatever audience he needs to charm to get what he wants; sometimes, he can change his heart and soul in the same fashion without feeling any GUILT about the fallout.

He has a human side but it's none of that overly empathetic, politically correct bullshit. It's measured, often purposeful, sometimes for his personal gain but sometimes for the gain of others. In other words, Vincente is not a terrible person, he simply picks and chooses where to put his energy in this respect.

Though he seems carefree, he becomes a nightmare when his business his threatened. All members are expendable if they put operations in danger; some are lucky to hold trusted positions that give them chances to regain his trust, some aren't.

He knows what's at risk, takes it seriously, honours hard-work, gets rid of problems (usually before they arise), and really, really, hates it when things don't go his way.

EST/WANTED CONNECTIONS & PLOTS

Levi Grayson (Best Friend) - TAKEN

Arturo Contreras (Oldest son) - OPEN

Vivienne Contreras (Older Sister) - OPEN

**gifs used aren't mine**

[dutyovergrief]

mateo listened quietly, letting vincente finish before reaching for the glass. he didn't drink from it. instead, he turned it slowly between his fingers, eyes fixed on the man across from him. the metaphor wasn't exactly subtle, and neither of them were stupid enough to pretend otherwise. "you've got one thing wrong," he said after a moment. "the dog isn't wandering around lost. he knows exactly what he's doing."

his gaze lifted. "the problem is that he's looking at two men and seeing people. he's not looking at the badges, the titles, the organizations, or everything attached to them. maybe that's admirable. maybe it's reckless." a small breath left him. "i haven't decided which."

mateo leaned back in his chair, studying vincente carefully. for the first time all evening, there wasn't much sarcasm in his expression. "you want to know if i'd sting you." his fingers tapped once against the side of the glass. "that depends on why you're sticking your hand in the hive." his voice remained calm. "if you're there to hurt him, yes. if you're there to use him, yes. if your decisions put him in the middle of something he can't walk away from, absolutely." he held vincente's gaze. "but if you're asking whether i wake up every morning looking for reasons to go after you because of him?" mateo shook his head. "no."

the deputy chief was quiet for a moment. "what worries me isn't you." his jaw tightened slightly. "it's that he thinks wanting something is enough to make the world cooperate. that caring about two people means the dangers attached to them disappear." he finally picked up the glass and took a drink. "life doesn't work that way." his eyes settled back on vincente. "so if you're asking me whether we can coexist? maybe. if you're asking whether it's safe?" a humorless smile appeared. "not even a little."

[vgcontreras]

    Silence tugs at the angry words he wishes to speak in favour of allowing the deputy chief to talk to his metaphor. Mateo’s concise honesty dispels some of his nervous energy that swirls around in his stomach but it doesn’t earn his trust. He spoke of life the way most law enforcement did — faithless, judgemental, accusatory as if all cops were saints and all criminals were sinners even though their roles were very often reversed or combined. The leader doesn’t interrupt him, doesn’t mention how Hasan could take care of himself, he merely meets the other’s eyes when necessary, quietly observing.     “I’m not asking if you’d sting me if I stuck my hand in the hive. You and I both know that my hands are deep in it already.” Vincente sits forward. “I’m asking that if push comes to shove, if you had the opportunity to take me down at his expense, would you? Because let’s talk clearly for a moment, man to man, if I get arrested, I won’t make it to jail.” It hangs between them. Mateo would know what he meant even though he doesn’t divulge any further; Hasan would grieve him and deal with Mateo’s betrayal.

   He shakes his head. “I don’t agree that he knows what he’s doing fully. His head is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop the nausea without our stabilization.” Dark eyes meet dark. “But you’re right that he’s only seeing two men instead of our proven and alleged affiliations. Whether that’s reckless or admirable doesn’t matter. Whether that’s safe or not isn’t important. You might not be concerned by me but I’m concerned by you. What matters is if you can turn on the wasps in your hive to protect him or if you’ll be the one to order the attack.”     Another pause. And then a sigh.     “My wasps are too afraid to buzz without my permission. Do with that what you will but I don’t operate on ‘maybes’, Mateo. You need to promise me that no matter what, Hasan doesn’t end up a pawn in this game of cat and mouse we’ve been playing for years. I’ll promise the same.”

[thedocxlevi]

Levi playfully rolled his eyes at his best friend as they spoke. The doctor loved days and moments like this where he could spend time with his best friend. Vincente was like a brother and he considered them a brother even if they were not blood at all. Plus, he loved Ollie spending time with his favorite uncle Vince. "Whatever Vincente," he spoke shaking his head. "For the record, I do feed him, it is not my fault that he is always interested in what I am eating or what is on my plate even if it's the same thing on his".

[vgcontreras]

Moments like this reminded him of his humanity where wealth, violence, and paranoia had stolen it from him. “Men have drowned for talking to me like that, Levi. Watch your mouth.” Vincente grins, covering Oliver’s face with his palm. Loud giggles are muffled by his hand. Tiny hands claw at his fingers, forgetting all about their pursuit of his lunch. “Maybe you should teach your brat table manners then.” He teases, popping the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth before uncovering the toddler’s face.

[heath-morgan]

open starter

location: met gala

the met gala had a reputation for being unlike anything else on the social calendar. strip away the headlines, photographers, and manufactured exclusivity, it was just another room full of familiar faces drinking overpriced champagne while pretending their schedule hadn't intersected a dozen times already that year. heath stands near one of the gallery entrances, a champagne flute resting in his hand, he watches the room move around him; silk, velvet, and ego. across the floor, an assistant hurried by with what appeared to be a sewing kit clutched against her chest, wearing the expression of someone attempting to prevent a very expensive disaster

"'very year i tell myself i'll learn somethin' 'bout fashion" heath said, taking a slow sip of champagne. the man paused, his gaze followed the unfortunate assistant disappearing into the crowd "'very damn year i walk out knowin' less than when i walked in"

[vgcontreras]

"With your big ass head and little body, I doubt learning anything about fashion will help you look like you don't live out of tent, Morgan." Vincente quips, coming to stand by the older man's side like it seemed was destined to happen at every party to New York. Bone deep exhaustion makes it come out more like a fond tease than his normal threat; watching Mateo and Hasan flirt while the rest of the party-goers moved on like nothing was happening bothered him, knocked his game off-kilter. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, act out, punch a cop. "But who knows, the mermaid princess, whatever the fuck her name is, only needed legs to be more attractive, the bar is low. Knowledge might be your legs in this situation."

[hasanxhilic]

Hasan was a man who was known for being petty, he was someone that would purposely ignore someone to get back at them but this time he was not being his normal petty self and he really wanted to keep his distance, he wanted to give Vincente space especially after their last conversation. This was unlike the model and club owner but he really cared about they so much that he was willing to be mature and think about someone, how they felt over himself. This was a side that Hasan always hid, he never showed to anyone and now he was showing it to the male.

Hasan was trying so hard to hold back, not to kiss Vincente as the male spoke and so when they kept going and at the end, they pulled him for a kiss. Their lips touched surprised the male, closing his eyes, He had missed them honestly. It took all his power not to answer the call, not to text back. Hasan returned the kiss with passion and desire. A kiss that said how badly he wanted to answer, he wanted to come find the male.

He kept making out with the male before slowly pulling away and looking into their eyes. "I wanted....I wanted to give you space and you a moment," he whispered softly as he ran his hands through the male's hair and did not take their eyes off them. "No quería complicarte las cosas," Hasan added as his other hands moved to place on their hand which was still snaking around his waist.

[vgcontreras]

   Bared teeth pinch and tug the skin of Hasan’s stubbled jaw and neck. His hands slip back around his hips, creeping up his torso and chest. A soft, displeased noise gurgles in the back of his throat when he pulls away to look at him, deep brown eyes glossy and warm. The leader searches his face, watching, no, waiting for signs of purposeful deception but watery blue don’t even flicker with anything close to it nor do his words draw together in discernable white lies.     ‘I didn’t want to make your life complicated’ — the model’s honesty disarms his doubt and anger in own foul swoop, leaving inside of him a hollowness where his own honesty lies. Respect. Vincente rarely got it without manipulation or force. The people under his command were scared of him and scared of each other so he preyed on it to keep them in line; to keep them from turning against him.     Everyone in his circle had ulterior motives — they wanted to impress him, gain his trust, prove that they were worthy to walk on the same ground as him. Some wanted his trust, others wanted his throne. But Hasan? It seemed that he didn’t want anything from him, except for maybe one impossibility that seemed to linger between them even still.     Out of respect for him, not in spite of him, Hasan had kept his distance. Just like he’d asked him at the gala.     The entirety of his face softens down back into himself, his eyes fond and warm on the man standing so close to him. “I don’t care if you’re busy,” The man whispers, guiding him back toward the door to cage him in. “— don’t care if Mateo is asleep in your bed right now.” Another whisper, this time with a hint of bitterness. “You’re mine.” It’s a statement, not a negotiation, said with enough possession that it bordered on scary.

   “Tonight. Tomorrow night. The Next.” Vincente presses into him completely, feeling the man’s chest move as he breathes. He cups the side of his neck, kissing him hotly yet with enough softness to give Hasan room to protest. A smirk curls on his lips — under his fingers, he could feel the slight spike of his heart rate. “Got it, Príncipe?”

[vgcontreras]

( closed / @thedocxlevi )

Somewhere downtown, in the broad daylight, shipments were making landfall at his private dock, unloaded by nobodies and somebodies while he was conveniently sat across from his best friend, trying not to laugh while a toddler did everything he could to grab at the remainder of his sandwich. Ollie was perched on his leg, his entire body twisted toward him, bright-eyed and giggling as he reached for Vincente's wrist, fingers — whatever he could get ahold of. "You should really feed your kid, doc." The man states with a grin.

[vgcontreras]

( closed / @hasanxhilic - end of may)

   Memorial Day weekend dangles the true beginning of summer in front of the noses of school children and adults alike. At the witching hour on Saturday morning, the crisp air smells of early celebrations — charcoal, overdone sausages, freshly mown grass — and the ever-growing humidity brings out the strong, off-putting musty smell of warm concrete. The distant hum of A.C units accompany him as he walks from the backseat of his car toward the front double doors of an apartment building. Holding a plastic bag, still warm to the touch, he ducks up the familiar stairs and knocks roughly on the door.     “You son of a bitch!” The man exclaims in Spanish as the door opens revealing Hasan, clothed, standing in his doorway looking hot. “Two weeks!” He starts, pushing the man gently aside, moving past him only to round on him in the foyer. “Two weeks of complete silence.”     “I texted.” He hadn’t     “I called.” He hadn’t done that either.     “I went to your damn club, nice by the way  — not my fucking thing  — and despite your car being in the parking lot and your damn coat hanging on the back of your office chair, your bar staff said you weren’t in!” Vincente’s eyes are wild, wearing all the signs of a man truly and deeply affected yet hinting at another emotion that whirled around in his system like smoke. 

   “You’re a liar and an asshole. I think you’re trying to drive me crazy!” Another exclamation followed by another, the warm plastic bag being hoisted into the air. “I even brought you dinner in case you were living like a subway rat, waiting under some poor banker’s seat for scraps like most bachelors. I’m the leader of the Cartel — ‘El-whatever-the-fuck’ they’re calling me now and I’ve been reduced to a panicked mess and making house calls because some dipshit, who claims to love me, can’t pick up his phone and text me a lowly emoji once in awhile to let me know that he’s safe! Oh no, I have to come here like some errand boy because I was w-”    Speech stills. Time slows. Dark eyes watch the prettiest blue he’d ever seen stare back at him. Does he remember to breathe? Not really. Was he thinking about shipments? Paper trails? Murder? No. The leader simply stands there, breathing hard in his space before backing him up against the front door. A couple of moments pass in closeness, their noses brush, he feels Hasan's warm breath on his lips; the bag is placed on the mat at the front door and he kisses him, hard and passionately, his hands snaking around the younger man’s waist.

[hasanxhilic]

For some reason Hasan did not believe the male's words. In a way they had both been honest and also liars as well. Lying about their feeling, the relationship between them. Hasan knew he cared so much more than he would like to admit, just like Vincente cared despite his words saying otherwise. Their actions right now was providing that the words that was coming out of his mouth so wrong even if he did believe the words of the male, he would not have mind being just another warm mouth. He was still trying to understand how a man, how two men could make him like this. Make him come undo. He did not hate it but it was all so new and confusing on it's own but even more confusing and complex with him being the head of his family, Vin being the head of his own gang and also the other person who made him this weak was a deputy. Their natural enemy.

It would not be surprising that Hasan would have fallen for an enemy, after all Hasan had always liked to be different, face complex situation but this time he had no choice. He did not choose to fall. He wanted Vincente closer, the male's touch and their lips on his skin. Hasan let out a breath they they pulled away after the kiss. When Vince kissed him Hasan kissed back with passion and desire. His kiss secretly and whispering that he knew the male's words were a lie but he was not able to say it yet, he could not say it yet.

He listened to the male and was silent, wanting Vincente to speak first. Say everything they wanted and needed to say. Hasan had many sides to him, there was one particular side that came out in this moment. "Will it turn on you on if I got down on my knees right now Vincente, let my lips taste you and worship you. Those dangerous eyes of yours look down into mine as I take you into my lips?" he spoke voice deep but yet soft. "Your lips marking mine and my body?" he added right before the other pulled away.

Hasan grabbed Vincente's hand and pulled the male towards him and look deep into their eyes. "You had my word and I will not spill a word Vince," he whispered before kissing the male again deeply with desire and passion.

[vgcontreras]

   A barely-there smirk, annoyed, minutely frustrated, is hidden by the shake of his head as he pushes Hasan away weakly. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, Kılıç…” The leader puts enough distance between them that the younger man wouldn't be able to grab him again unless he took a couple of steps forward, allowing him to see it before it happened; to stop him from consuming him whole.    A stretch of silence consumes them instead. Vincente doesn’t look at him for a long time, his gaze set forward on some type of canvas that was hidden well by the dark. When he speaks next, the leader still doesn’t look at him but his tone is almost detached like his whole body didn’t agree with his words. “I’m serious, Hasan. Whatever this was,” He motions between them with an open palm. “It can’t continue if you’re with him…”    “We’ve been fucking for what? A couple of months at most? It’s a clean end to a string of mistakes for the both of us.” He watches him from the corner of his eye, crossing his arms over his chest now, a swallow bobbing his Adam's apple in his throat.

   Fists ball in the crook of his elbows. “If I were someone else —” He sighs, shaking his head. “Nah, even then…” The man’s voice is quiet, more like a whispered truth than an outward admission. Not necessarily profound but something that signalled to his body, a loss that still shattered something deep inside of him. “I can’t go back to the person who prayed in the bathroom mirror while covering up bruises to be with someone like you. He might’ve loved you anyway, could’ve found a way to love Mateo too but I can’t. He’s the chief deputy, interacts with all the organizations that I’m wanted by on a regular basis. At the end of the day, no matter how he feels about you, he’s still a pig and I’m still me. Given the chance to take down the cartel, he would, leaving you in the middle to piece together that betrayal.”

[dutyovergrief]

mateo recognized the voice before he was close enough to be noticed. under normal circumstances, he would have kept walking. vincente wasn’t a man he trusted, and certainly not one he sought out for conversation. but the connection they shared to someone important to both of them was enough to make him pause. that, and the fact that mateo had never been the kind of man to avoid an uncomfortable situation.

he stopped beside the chair, one hand slipping into his pocket as he looked down at him. “you do realize who you’re saying that to, right?” he said dryly, one brow lifting slightly. his eyes followed the motion toward the crowd before returning to vincente. without waiting for an invitation, mateo pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. “so,” he said, settling back in his seat, “who’s got you this worked up?”

[vgcontreras]

   Vincente groans dramatically, dropping his head back against the leather of the chair. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. The leader peers up at Mateo from that angle, taking in the lines of his jaw and shoulders, ensuring that it really was him that he was seeing and not an apparition made up by his irritation. “Good, the message got to the person it was meant for then.” He murmurs but his tone no longer holds the weighty, commanding threat that it normally did. Instead, the air between them is vacant of aggression for the first time since he’d become leader and in spite of the circumstances that now bound them in some sick chance of fate. Because what were the fucking odds that he’d start hooking up with a man who was also fucking the deputy chief of police?    His head rolls along the back ledge of the chair following the man’s movements as he walks past him and pulls out the chair directly in front of him. Vincente rolls his head forward then, straightening his head. Their eyes meet, there is a silent concession in the way he looks at him now because fuck Hasan, that’s why. He really should’ve killed him when he’d had the chance. Instead, he was now sitting here with said chief deputy, a man that he wouldn’t normally want to confide in.  “Do you know anything about wasps, deputy?” He asks.

   “I ask because there is this cute pup who has wandered into my neighbourhood, a Turkish kangal. He’s barking up the wrong tree —” Vincente grabs the bottle of Tequila along with two glasses that are placed on the table between them with a simple wave of his hand at one of the staff. His pour is sloppy, hands trembling, not at all the practiced finesse of his younger self.     “The trunk of this tree isn’t necessarily rotten inside but it’s full of yellow-jackets. Yet, he persists.” Brown eyes flit up to meet brown, a glass is nudged across the table toward Mateo by his knuckles; a threat and a peace offering. “See, the pup believes their queen is docile, that she would never sting him. That’s because he’s not a threat yet and he’s mistaken her for a honeybee.” A long, heavy silence settles around them, stretching moments before the younger man starts again. “But if he sticks his nose too far inside the hive? I’m afraid she’ll sting him to death, make him out to be the bad guy.”    He sinks into the chair, resting his drink on the arm of it; an extension of his hand. “Let’s say that I care for this stray, that despite the danger I know is lurking in that hive for me, I choose to stand by his side anyway. If you were the queen of that swarm, Mateo, do you think I’d get stung too? Or is there a scenario where we can all co-exist despite hostilities? Because that’s what, not who, has gotten me worked up.” He downs the entire glass in one agonizing, throat-burning gulp. “Now? I have to decide if I want to call animal control despite caring for him, let the hive be, or kill its queen for our safety  — wouldn’t you be worked up too?”

[hasanxhilic]

Hasan had always tried his best not to get things complicated, he could be calculating and he hated complicated things and mostly tried his best to stay away. He was not someone that ran away from emotions but he was someone who choose and prefer not to get involved or attached to people. It seems like for once, he had gotten himself into something that was so very complicated. The male was known for playing games, playing with people which was true but it had surprised him that when it came to both males he refused to do so and why he was honest with them from the start.

He sighed before the other male started to speak. Hasan listened to their words carefully, he saw that look and he stood tall ready to face anything that Vincente was going to throw at him. Ready to face the music of his choices which he could not control at all. He just listened and understood where the male was coming from.

"I never planned for this to happen Vincente and I am still glad that I told you the truth. Even if makes things complicated and a mess. I could never lie to you or Halil. You know my family means the world to me and I will do everything in my power to protect them even----" he his words faded after speaking when Vincente spoke and their hand fell away.

Hasan grabbed the male's hand and held it. "I am so very sorry," his voice a whisper holding the male's hand as he looked into their eyes.

[vgcontreras]

Vincente watches as their hands are tangled, relaxes his fingers around Hasan's, his dark eyes watching him over his shoulder. "It didn't make anything complicated, Hasan. It helped me see clearly where I wasn't before. You've been truthful with me so let me return the favour — I don't care about you, your family, and whatever else you assumed I cared about. You were a warm mouth, thank you for that, really. But I'd rather my hand than sharing a mouth with a pig. Could've been hot if not for that." Vincente brushes his nose against the knot of his jaw after moving in close, nipping the skin just below it.

He kisses him then, softly and passionately all at once. Maybe for the sake of Hasan's heart, maybe for the sake of his own. Perhaps it was a parting gift, perhaps it was a tactic to get him to choose him or maybe, for only a second, Vincente wanted to be human again. "I hope that every time you're on your knees for him, the only thing you can think about is how your every breath belongs to me." The leader's lips curl in the shadow of his neck as he curses him, his arms sneaking underneath the hem of his soft shirt. Goosebumps formed there, dancing along his spine like braille for his soul. He traces them, gets lost in the stories the knots of his spine tell him and then — "I could've killed you that day, let you bleed out on the cold concrete, I probably should've but I didn't — wasn't because you were honest, pretty boy, it was because I knew who you were the moment I saw you." The leader pulls him close, the hard lines of their bodies melting together. "— guess it's just in our blood, huh? too bad we weren't lucky enough to follow through." Vincente pulls away, meeting their gazes, void of his earlier vulnerable and nurturing nature. "Speaking of, if Levi finds out about me, I'll kill you. If any harm comes to my kids, I'll do worse. Are we clear? Let Halil and Levi believe that the contract they just signed was meant for only them, heir to heir."

[vgcontreras]

(open to all / met gala OR non-event)

As if someone has snapped an elastic band around the back of his head, the stuffy room combined with loud music and body heat makes a steady, frustrating pulse start at the base of Vincente's skull. The leader's stomach wobbles, dark eyes burn in his skull, and he could already feel a cold sweat clinging to certain parts of his body.

Blood sugar, normal. Blood pressure, elevated. Heart rate? 125 and climbing. His watch mirrors back to him the problem as he takes a seat in an empty chair as far away from the crowd as he could. Vincente trains his gaze ahead at the same time as someone approaches. Believing it to be one of his men (who else would be stupid enough to approach him from behind?), he allows a heavy sigh to fall from his lips. "That motherfucker looks at me wrong and I'll pop him. Cop, not a cop, whatever the fuck..." He motions to the crowd.

[hasanxhilic]

Hasan had been very surprised by the way he was acting, he was normally someone who would play with people's feelings and people's heart for sure and get them hurt not caring about their feelings but this time he was the opposite. The male had been honest to both males despite knowing their reaction and him putting himself in the middle. He did not want to play with their hearts or them.

Hasan had been a bit different too, he had not been his normal flirty self and a little shit. He had also been more quiet which was opposite him. He knew the danger he was putting his family and he hated it. He had never had to be in a position like this, fights his feelings, responsibilities and his life and world. The male did not react at all when Vince grabbed his wrist and leaned in.

I deserve that he thought to himself and sighed. He noticed the note reading it after a few moments and deciding to meet the male. Leaving his phone behind.

"I deserve your anger and I understand it. Know am not playing games at all"

[vgcontreras]

The lights of the art storehouse are dim. Darkness curls its boney fingers around wall shelves and sheet-covered sculptures. Music and chatter are distant enough not to bother him; the room is mostly silent except for his breath and his private security shifting from foot-to-foot in forty-five second intervals. Vincente's dark eyes are cast forward, one arm draped over the back of a concrete bench, his other picking at the muffin his security had brought him when his blood sugar had dipped. Shuffling changes pattern, another accompanies it. His foot fall isn't his normal saunter, it's cautious, slow, almost deprecative on approach. Good, he thinks to himself, serves him right. His awknowledgment doesn't come, even when his body casts shadows over his lap from the right. But here in the cold storehouse, that shadow wouldn't eventually melt into his own like it normally did. Hasan speaks to games and rewards and something inside of him scoffs despite his calm demeanour. Dark eyes meet blue.

"Yes you are." It's said without room for disagreement. "You might be too naive to understand it, too early in your career as a family head to have predicted it but the moment you made a pig squeal and a king bow, you started playing a game you won't win. You say you deserve my anger, that's not true. No strings attached, remember? I held up my end of the bargain, seems like you forgot your's." Lithe fingers tap the space next to him, his gaze falling back to a covered painting. His tone is a watery lilt, softer than normal, none of the leader bravado; authentic, careful, nurturing. "I won't make you choose but if there was a choice, know that you wouldn't be picking me or him — you'd be picking jail time for you and the people you care for, heart-break, betrayal, the fell of your family's empire or just average human heart-break. One poisons your soul, one just makes you sick." He sits forward. "From leader to leader, think about what bending over for the detective will cost you." Vincente stands, gently tapping the man's chin twice. "Behave yourself, Hasan." But his hand lingers there for too long before finally falling away.

[vgcontreras]

( @hasanxhilic )

Punctured flesh trickles blood from the hollow of his cheek, coating his tongue and pooling at his gum line from the force of the soft skin caving under the pressure of sharp canines. Vincente had been watching them closely all night — eyeing one another, flirting, standing too close, all while trying to be 'subtle'. Maybe nobody else would notice but he had. It pissed him off. And when he was pissed off, under normal circumstances, people died. This, unfortunately for the way his blood bubbled under his skin, was far from normal; a dead detective would not only put him on a police radar again, it would destroy Hasan. So, he did what he did best — made a messy situation even messier. Grabbing the hand of a random passerby who doesn't protest, the leader makes a line toward Hasan just as he's leaving Matteo's side. Their shoulders collide forcefully, intentionally, and with his free hand, he grabs the younger man's wrist, leaning in and whispering. "Rat." But he easily deposits a note into the man's jacket pocket. Gallery A, 5th floor. 10 minutes.Leave your phone and the pig outside.

[hasanxhilic]

Hasan was maybe the king of complicated, it was not surprising that he would find himself in a position like this. Getting involved with his brother's boss. Their last interaction had been interesting to say the least. Hasan always been interesting, he loved and enjoyed crossing the line even if he knew that it would end in pain or in blood.

The male not really bored at all but he had been watching the other, pretending not to do so and also making it obvious to them as well. He finally decided it was boring just keeping his distance and so, he moved and walked toward them. He stood in front of the male. "So many familiar faces here. Rivals, enemies should be an interesting night."

[vgcontreras]

Violent but merciful. Arrogant yet humble. Chaotic in his organization. Cold and at the same time burning under the surface with a paternal warmth that was the reason his office chair was now viewed as both a royal dais and an execution chair; if Hasan believed that he was the king of complicated, Vincente believed himself to be the GOD of it. "Weak people have rivals." He starts. "Only the people who hold real power have enemies." Dark eyes drag over his form — underneath the cocky smirk and frat-boy-esque bravado there was a simple man, human and soft in the ways that he was as a child still yearning for something just out of reach.

Then, like a cat to mouse, Vincente decides to play with his food. "Which one am I to you? A familiar face? Or an enemy?"

[vgcontreras]

(the atlas room w/ @hasanxhilic )

Expansion — a terrifying, mind-aching thought for a mere man and a violent opportunity to show Tristan the Brotherhood's true place among the gangs of the city for a LEADER. He wouldn't make any moves yet, not until they settled in, got comfortable, thought the coast was clear. It wasn't, it never would be, not with him lurking in the shadows. Vincente would destroy everything they were building just for the fun of watching them squirm.

Stale air; hyper-vigilance; boredom — they fall to the wayside when his dark eyes catch on a familiar face. Strong arms, broad shoulders, wearing the features of a man who had succeeded at everything he'd ever set out for, the leader only remembers the curve of his spine. Vincente merely raises his brows, a subtle challenge for the bar owner to approach him where he sat overlooking the room; he supposed they were both scoping out the competition. Idiot, he thought; he should've killed him when he had the chance.

[daimiyamoto]

PETER GADIOT

NINE BODIES IN A MEXICAN MORGUE Dead Reckoning

[hasanxhilic]

If there was one thing about Hasan it was that he knew when to be serious and when to stop playing games. When it came to his brother and sister he did not play games at all. Hasan was filled with rage but he knew to be careful, anything he said in anger could make things even worst. He looked at Vincent as he was on the cold floor and looked deep into the male's eyes. His own eyes were serious. "Fine," he spoke voice deep and powerful.

"But I don't think my brother's handsome doctor I believe his name is Levi Grayson will like that if you killed his man's sister," he spoke still looking deep into the male's eyes. "Plus, I am sure Halil will be mad that his boss killed his little sister." he added licking his lips. "I was going to keep this up a little longer but I guess. I only dig into you because I assume your best friend was getting close to my brother and you just happened to be associated with the doctor and looking you was more of an accident instead of a purpose thing."

[vgcontreras]

With his back to him, Vincente's lips curl in a triumphant grin but when he turns around, he wears an indifferent look. Dark eyes make contact with the man standing to Hasan's right — a tall, broad, light-haired man wearing a mask, his light blue eyes the only visible feature on his face. "He tellin' the truth?" The man nods and Vincente motions for him to leave, patting his spine as he passes in sly, performative comfort. Another man hands him a first aid kit, places Hasan's chair upright, and ushers the rest of them out until only Hasan and Vincente remained.

"Your mouth is going to get you killed in this city." The leader sighs, sitting back down in his chair across from Hasan's. Gauze is peeled from its wrapper, dipped in saline, and swiped at the wound on the other man's brow. His touch isn't gentle but not aggressive either. He does the same to his lip and pushes his head down to check the spot where head made contact with his brother's boot. "The only reason you're still upright is because I don't want to anger the Turks." His tone is low, distracted. "For your information, Levi knows that his opinion doesn't matter in the affairs of The Cartel — the same goes for your brother. He's my employee, he works for me. I don't work for him. Luckily for you though, I trust them enough to give your word merit."